


you can set yourself on fire (but you’re never going to burn)

by RiseHigh



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Brother Feels, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Extremely Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), That's what I'm here for, brother feels under extreme circumstances, did i mention the trauma?, so many brother feels, with trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2019-07-18 20:58:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16126616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiseHigh/pseuds/RiseHigh
Summary: “Sometimes I think Sparkles doesn’t even pay attention—doesn’t see how you are always think-think-thinking on his behalf.”  The Grandmaster tapped on his head with each ‘think’ and kept tapping until Loki opened his eyes to look up at him.AKA the Grandmaster feels like Loki is thinking too much and Thor isn't thinking enough.  Don't worry though, he has the perfect game that he just knows will fix everything.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Loxxlay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loxxlay/gifts).



> So there’s still a part of me that can’t believe I wrote this—let alone that I’m posting it—but here we are. This is a post-Ragnarok and total AU where Loki and Thor (as completely platonic brothers) are re-captured by the Grandmaster and things get dark really fast...no matter how hard they try to save each other.
> 
> Warning: This has extremely dubious consent plus non-consensual fantasy drug use, implied/referenced mutual noncon with Thor/Loki, and associated traumas. Be warned. 
> 
> Major shout out to Loxxlay for encouraging me to write this thing, listening to me ramble, and for creating the incredible Brothers of Habit universe from which I have lovingly stolen the basic premise for this fic.

They were walking in circles—not literally, of course, but the Grandmaster was leading them through the brightly colored corridors with no apparent destination in mind.  (The whole time chattering away about some drama between Praxid and Bran—two Xandarians who Loki was fairly certain where actually named Prad and Braxin.)  From what Loki could tell there was no pattern to the path they walked, but he was certain it wasn’t truly aimless. 

Nothing with the Grandmaster ever was. 

This had to be a test of some kind.  He only needed to figure out what it was before they failed it.  A part had to involve baiting Thor.  If it didn’t, the Grandmaster wouldn’t be running his fingers up and down Loki’s spine as they walked, occasionally—and deliberately—dipping lower.  Thor, for his part, was staying silent as he trailed behind them.

After a few more minutes of walking, the Grandmaster stopped abruptly.  “You’re doing it again.”

The displeasure in the Grandmaster’s voice was clear, and Loki’s mind instantly flitted through the options of what he was doing wrong.  He had been compliant and docile—following the Grandmaster’s lead and leaning into his touch with an easy calm.  It was faked, of course, but he was convincing.  He had always been convincing before—it had been enough before.  But before there had been no Thor to take into account—no Thor to make up for. 

“Doing what?”

“That thing you always do.” 

Loki furrowed his brow. 

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s adorable.” 

Using the hand that wasn’t cupping his ass, the Grandmaster massaged two of his fingers over Loki’s brow until he relaxed it.  Then he ran his fingers down over his nose and against pressed them his lips—Loki parted them obediently (ignoring the way he knew Thor had to be looking at him) and sucked the Grandmaster’s fingers into his mouth. 

“But it must be so exhausting.”  Removing his fingers, the Grandmaster gently wiped the front of them on one of Loki’s cheeks and the back on the other—it felt like he was being marked.  “Come.”

The room they were led into wasn’t large, but it was big enough to hold more than just the three of them.  His stomach knotted and he hid a grimace.  One glance at Thor, who was (not surprisingly) failing to hide his own frown, told Loki he was feeling the same thing.

The room had table with a single glass of something green and swirling on it plus four couches arranged in a circle—the Grandmaster sat on the first one.  He had barely started to move his legs apart before Loki was walking forward to kneel between them.

“No, Lo-Lo, not on the ground.  You should be comfortable.”  The Grandmaster held out a pillow and Loki reached for it, but his hand was swatted away.  “Let, Sparkles, get it for you.  It’s the least he can do.”

Loki fought the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all.  Comfortable?  Yes.  This was about his comfort.  It was so comfortable to have his brother set the stage for his degradation—comfortable to watch Thor settle himself on the couch next to the man whose cock would be thrust down his throat in a matter of minutes.

“How’s that?”

“Perfect, Grandmaster.”  He sunk to knees with as much grace as he could muster.  “You’re always so considerate.”

“I am, aren’t I?”

* * *

Loki was right.  This was getting easier—no, easier was the wrong word.  Easy implied that it no longer caused him discomfort.  Manageable was more accurate.  Thor was becoming more able to manage his anger—to keep it tied up in what felt like a permanent knot in his stomach instead of having it burst out at the slightest provocation.

(Because that’s what Loki being forced into giving the Grandmaster a blowjob had become—a slight provocation.)

Thor tensed as he caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of the Grandmaster threading his fingers through Loki’s hair—taking control of Loki as if he was nothing more than a thing to be used. 

_Ignore it._

It was Loki’s voice in his head.  Sometimes the voice was exasperated other times it was angry or pleading, but it was always Loki telling him what to do—playing the role of his advisor.  It was natural in its own way—what everyone had always expected they would grow up to become.  Thor would be king and Loki would be at his side as his advisor and confidant.

(And here they were—Thor was king and Loki was at his side.  On his knees.  Gagging as the Grandmaster—)

_Whatever I’m doing with him, you have to ignore it._

Loki had said those words, or variations thereof, dozens of times during their discussions and arguments about their present situation.   At first, when Loki would phrase it like that—like he was making a choice—Thor would push back and make him admit that he wasn’t choosing or allowing any of this.  And Loki would amend his statement—not out of agreement but merely to placate him.  So Thor did as Loki asked.  He ignored it.

He stared off at a point on the wall across the room and concentrated on the sound of his own breathing instead of the noises next to him.  He wouldn’t think of any of it—not what was happening right now in that moment nor what would happen next.  Nothing existed but the garish orange and white paint on the walls and the sounds of his own breathing.

(Yet he couldn’t ignore the movement on the couch—the vibrations that traveled through the cushions as the Grandmaster started thrusting in earnest and Loki—Loki—Loki—)

_I can handle it, Thor.  I don’t need you to protect me._

* * *

When the Grandmaster finished, he kept Loki’s head pressed against his thigh.  A part of Loki wanted to pull away and wipe his face, but instead he rested his weight on his heels, closed his eyes, and leaned into the touch.  And for a few blessed minutes he was able to shut everything out—nothing existed except the fingers gently carding through his hair and the warmth of Grandmaster’s skin.

“Do you think he realizes it—all that you do for him?”

Loki said nothing.  No answer was really expected, but the question alone was enough to pull him out of that place of fragile peace.

“Sometimes I think Sparkles doesn’t even pay attention—doesn’t see how you are always think-think-thinking on his behalf.”  The Grandmaster tapped on his head with each ‘think’ and kept tapping until Loki opened his eyes to look up at him.  “Like you’re the only one capable of thinking—as if you can out-think anyone.”

He didn’t need the Grandmaster tugging on his hair for emphasis to catch the point.  The Grandmaster had seen through his attempts to outthink and out maneuver him (which was unsurprising given that most had been little more than thinly-veiled efforts of damage control in response to Thor’s actions).  This was all about Loki and his failure to handle the situation.

“Which is why you’re going to take a break from thinking tonight—how does that sound?”

He didn’t let himself hesitate.  “That sounds wonderful.”

“So agreeable—I love that about you.”

Loki closed his eyes, took a steadying breath, and tried to relax.  This wouldn’t be the worst.  He’d had the Grandmaster’s concoctions before—more times than he could count.  Some were distasteful but the effects of others he had enjoyed—even when Thor had been watching. 

(It had been a relief to succumb to the haze of drugs and not think about anything but seeking pleasure—although once that drug faded, he had felt the full weight of his depravity in the overwhelming look of concern he had received from Thor when they returned to their room.)

“Hmm.”

At the disapproving noise, Loki blinked his eyes open and gave the Grandmaster an apologetic look.  The Grandmaster responded with what could have been an indulgent smile if it had met his eyes.  Instead of speaking, he nudged Loki’s head off his thigh and gestured at his lap before turning to Thor.  Loki set about tucking the Grandmaster back into his robes while trying to pretend that there wasn’t a part of him that was hurt by the Grandmaster ignoring him for Thor. 

“Now, Sparkles, while your brother isn’t thinking, you and I will play a little game.”  The Grandmaster patted Thor’s leg.  “How does that sound?”

“What kind of game?” Thor asked, sounding suspicious but not openly antagonistic.

“If I told you, then that would ruin the fun.”

“Hard to play if I don’t know the rules.”

“Well, that’s the game—it ends when you figure them out.” 

With a flourish, he waved his hand at the wall and a timer appeared in neon colors.  60 minutes.  Loki bit the inside of his cheek and tried to focus on the pain instead of thinking how much could happen in 60 minutes.

“Think of it as an experiment to see if you’re as clever as your brother,” the Grandmaster continued with a little too much glee.  “When you follow the rules, the timer counts down to zero and the game is over—but if you don’t follow the rules then more time goes on the clock.  It’s simple really.”

From the pace of Thor’s breathing alone, Loki could tell that his brother was ready to push back and to challenge, so he spoke instead.  “And what will I do?”

“Nothing, sweetheart.”  The Grandmaster stood up and then helped Loki do the same.  He took his hand and guided him to a settee.  “You just sit here and enjoy yourself.”

Loki forced himself to smile despite the clear threat.

“Sparkles, be a dear, get that for your brother.”

Thor stalked to the table and picked up the glass with deep green liquid—on closer inspection the swirling color within it was black.  His colors, Loki thought absently, as he reached to take the glass from Thor.

“Ah, ah, ah,” the Grandmaster scolded and Loki’s hand froze mid-air.  “No need to think and no need to tax yourself either. Let your brother take care of you.”

Loki let his hand drop and, after a moment and a gesture from the Grandmaster, Thor took a half-step forward and somewhat clumsily held the glass to Loki’s lips.  Loki could feel the drying saliva and spend on his chin and knew Thor could see it all in vivid detail.  It was humiliating.  He forced those feelings aside and parted his lips—silently urging Thor to tilt the glass further so that he could swallow the too sweet liquid as quickly as possible. 

As if drinking it faster would end this sooner. 

He wondered what the effects would be this time—it would lower his inhibitions, obviously, but there would be another layer.  The Grandmaster’s drugs could do so many things and Loki’s stomach knotted around the liquid in it as he considered the possibilities.  Not unconscious—can’t learn a lesson that way (well, at least this particular lesson).  The usual aphrodisiac ones were probably out—they might make him out of his mind with need, but they technically never prevented him from thinking.

“You’re doing it again, sweetheart.”

Loki ducked his head.  “Sorry, Grandmaster.”

“Tonight, will be good for you—both of you.”  He patted Thor’s cheek before giving Loki a little wave.  “I’ll be back in a bit.  Menus to confirm, guests to coral, you know how it is.”

* * *

Thor watched Loki scrub his face with the sleeve of his tunic the moment the Grandmaster was out of the room.  “Are you...”

“Nothing so far.”  Loki scowled in the direction of the timer on the wall and Thor flinched even though his brother’s anger wasn’t directed at him (at least not yet—somehow Thor always managed to say the wrong thing leading Loki to lash out).  “I doubt it will be long.”

“What do you think...?”

“I’m not supposed to think, remember?”  Loki snapped as he got to his feet so he could pace.  “You’ll have to figure this one out without me.  Whatever that was—” he paused to gesture wildly at the empty glass that was still in Thor’s hand.  “I’m certain it will render me incapable of higher thought.”

“Which is why I want your opinion now.”

“Because Norns forbid you come up with a plan yourself!”

There was the anger.  Even though Thor expected it, it still stung and triggered the urge to argue back.  He turned to place the empty glass to the table, taking the moment to calm himself.  Fighting would get them nowhere.  Schooling his face to a neutral expression, he turned back around. 

“Loki...”

“We’ve been here for weeks, Thor,” Loki cut him off but didn’t stop pacing.  “You must have some idea how this works.”

“My way never works—you’re better at this than me.”

“Clearly, I’m not.”

“You are.”

This got Loki to stop moving and something dark flashed in his eyes.  “Of course, it took _this_ to get you to compliment me.”  He gestured at the pillow on the ground.  “Because that is the only way I can be better than you.”

“You’re twisting my words,” Thor couldn’t keep the growl of frustration from his voice.  “And baiting me into an argument.”

“Something else I’m good at.”

“I didn’t mean…”

Loki waved off the rest of his sentence and let the tension in his shoulders drop.  Thor hoped it meant he was letting go of his anger and not just a product of the drug.   

“This isn’t about you—it never is.  It’s about me.”

Thor gave Loki a worried look.  The content of the statement itself wasn’t surprising—he had read the thought in Loki’s eyes on more than one occasion—but he didn’t expect Loki to verbalize it.

“That’s not the drug talking, if that’s your concern.”  Loki had clearly caught his look and shrugged.  “Or at least I don’t think it is. Even I can tire of maintaining a pretense after a time.  Unless, of course, the drug is only making me think I have tired of the pretense.”  He sighed and shook his head.  “Perhaps I’m over thinking.”

“Perhaps?”  Thor couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow and Loki gave him an annoyed look that was (for once) more amused than scathing.  “You wouldn’t be Loki if you didn’t over think.”

“I suppose not.  And the fact that I’m capable of overthinking means that the drug has not taken effect.”

The ‘yet’ hung unspoken between them as the brief moment of normalcy between them faded. 

“Just let whatever he wants happen,” Loki said, breaking the silence.  “Ignore it, don’t threaten, and then it will be over.  We can face whatever fresh hel he dreams up tomorrow.”

It took everything in him to maintain eye contact with Loki as he spoke.  “And if I make it worse?”

“You won’t.”

“I have before.”

“Not intentionally.” 

Thor hadn’t truly expected a denial, but a part of him had hoped that Loki would argue with him—tell him was wrong and assure him that his actions didn’t carry the consequences he knew they did.  It would have been a lie but a comforting one nonetheless.  He turned away so Loki couldn’t see his face—so Loki wouldn’t think that Thor was the one who needed comfort.

“I know you’re trying.”

Of course Loki had seen it—or sensed it.  He was always more perceptive than Thor ever was—it made him a far better brother than he deserved. 

“Just tell me what to do,” he pleaded, trying to ignore the lump in his throat.

“You’ll figure something out, Thor, you always do.”

Thor had heard that phrase before—or variations of it—dozens of times from Loki.  Usually the tone was biting or tinged with mocking sarcasm, but this was different.  It reminded him of when they were younger—long before Sakaar and before everything else that had come between them—when they had been inseparable.  When Loki had thought Thor could solve any problem.

His stomach sank.  This wasn’t real.

Thor turned and, sure enough, Loki was looking at him with a kind of open affection that was unnatural given the circumstances.  A part of Thor wanted to cling to it—to believe that underneath it all that Loki still felt this way about him—but another part of him whispered that it was a lie.  It was only the drug.  Loki would never truly look at him like this—not after everything that had passed between them on Sakaar—not after what Thor had done.

“I trust you.”

Thor fought back a sob upon hearing those words—he didn’t deserve that trust (as much as it warmed something in his core to hear them).  Stepping forward, Thor cupped Loki’s neck and struggled to find the words.  None came.  Instead, he brushed his thumb along Loki’s jaw and pressed their foreheads together as if the contact could convey what he could not.  Loki relaxed into his touch and Thor savored it.

All too soon, the door opened and the Grandmaster swanned in.

Thor moved back immediately and Loki looked at him in confusion for a moment before stepping back himself.

“Lo-Lo, what are you doing up?  You are meant to be relaxing.”  The Grandmaster wagged his finger at Loki as if scolding before running it down Loki’s chest.  “Although I can’t really blame Sparkles, because you are just delectable.”

Thor didn’t move and Loki stayed still as well—or at least mostly.  The index finger of his right hand was scratching against the side of his thumb.  The nervous tick was familiar, but Thor had never seen him do it in front of the Grandmaster.

“But it’s hands off tonight.”  The Grandmaster pulled his hand away with a flourish before moving to caress Loki’s jaw (precisely where Thor’s own hand had been).  “Well, hands off for Sparkles.  I can’t say the same for others.”  He patted Loki’s cheek twice before taking his hand.  “Come, let’s get you settled.”

This was nothing new.  The Grandmaster undressing and arranging Loki into some provocative position for himself, Thor, or the guests at his parties.  They were both used it to—numb in their own way.  But tonight was different.  Loki was different.  Normally Loki’s expression was shuttered and closed off, but tonight it was open.  Thor could see the dread and trepidation in his wide green eyes.

And if he could see it from a distance, then the Grandmaster must be able to see it too, but the man didn’t comment if it bothered him.  If anything, he seemed to delight in the way Loki was looking at up him as he prattled on.  It made Thor’s skin crawl.

“Hmm, how’s that?  No.  Something’s missing.  A pillow, maybe?”  The Grandmaster snapped his fingers and gestured at the pillow on the floor where Loki had been kneeling before.  “Sparkles, get your brother that green one—it will bring out Lo-Lo’s eyes.”

Thor stalked over and picked up the pillow.  He held it out to the Grandmaster.

“No, you put it there—behind his head.”

Thor went to do as directed but Loki just looked up at him in confusion until Thor reached down to pull him forward.  Only then did Loki pull himself up the rest of the way while Thor adjusted the pillow.

“Good.  Yes, now go sit down and leave the rest to me.”

With the wave of the hand, Thor was dismissed and returned to the couch.  He watched Loki—searching for other signs of confusion.  This could be a good thing.  If he was confused, then maybe it meant the drug was limiting his awareness—that it would keep Loki from realizing how much his face was revealing—how much Thor was able to see.

Loki would probably hate that part the most.

Thor dropped his gaze and looked down at his feet.  Loki deserved what little privacy he could give him.  He didn’t bother to look up when the Grandmaster babbled on about how wonderful Loki looked before saying something about actually fetching the guests this time.  Thor kept his eyes on the floor—he would let Loki make the choice about whether they talked while they waited.

“I’m scared.”

At Loki’s words, his head whipped up to look at him.  Loki was visibly shaking and there were tears in his eyes.  Thor felt his anger coiling within him as his brother’s face crumpled.

“I don’t want to do this.”

Thor’s anger snapped and his power coursed through him.  It did little more than spark across his knuckles—the disc blocked most of it, leaving a stinging pain—but he sprung to his feet as if ready for a fight.  Growling in frustration, he flipped over the couch the Grandmaster had been sitting on when he forced Loki to suck him off.

“Stop.  You can’t.  He’ll…he’ll…” Loki trailed off with a panicked shake of his head—eyes wide with fear and something else.  “I’m sorry.  I know, I’m upsetting you.  That drink—I can’t focus.  I’m sorry.”

Thor moved toward the couch and crouched down on one knee so that they were at eye level.  “Don’t apologize.”

“It’s my fault.”

“No,” Thor said firmly, but Loki just shook his head.  “It’s not.”

“It is, it is.”  Loki looked as if he was warring with himself.  “You shouldn’t have to be here,” he whispered, glancing down at himself.  “To see this.”

Thor ached for a way to a fix this for him—fix all of it.  He imagined his hands around the Grandmaster’s throat—squeezing until he was the one who was gagging.  “I’m going to kill him.”

“No!  He’ll kill you and then… then…”  Loki swallowed almost convulsively before meeting Thor’s eye with an alarming ferocity.  “If he kills you, then I’d have no reason to… then all this will have been for nothing.”

Thor froze and felt his heart clench—not just at Loki’s words or their implication, but at the look on his brother’s face.  He’d seen that desperate look before—once—when they had both been dangling off the Bifrost—moments before Loki had let go.  

“Loki…”

He reached for Loki’s hand but he jerked it away. 

“No, Thor, no.  I can’t think.”  Loki’s breath started coming in short gasps.  “I know I should say something—or maybe shouldn’t say things—but I can’t tell which is right.  I can’t, Thor. I can’t.”

“Okay, okay, just breathe, Loki.”  He placed his hand on Loki’s shoulder and this time he didn’t flinch away from the touch.  “You just breathe and I’ll…”

His attempts at assurances were cut off by the doors re-opening and the Grandmaster entering with a dozen guests—some of whom were bigger than him (and were looking at Loki with an anticipation that made Thor sick).  He could feel himself trembling with rage—his muscles tense and ready for a fight.  It took everything in him to stay crouched at Loki’s side instead of lashing out at the Grandmaster and every single one of the guests. 

“Try as I might, I just can’t keep these brothers apart,” the Grandmaster said to the small crowd.  He laughed lightly, but his eyes were as sharp as ever as he looked at the upturned couch.  “Can’t leave them alone for a minute.”

The Grandmaster barely had to glance at the two attendants by the door and they moved quickly to right it.  His eyes quickly returned to Thor—studying him like some kind of specimen. 

(This was the part where Loki would usually talk—say something distracting or disarming to take the attention off Thor.  But Loki stayed silent.)

Instead, Thor glared back at the Grandmaster with unwavering determination.  He could feel the tension in Loki’s muscles and longed to give his shoulder a comforting squeeze, but he kept his hand still lest it draw attention to Loki.  He may not be able to stop any of this, but he could delay it as long as possible.

This, apparently, was dull to watch because the guests started milling about—getting drinks from waiters and starting quiet conversations.  None of them came near, but Thor had been to enough of these parties to know that wouldn’t last.

“Hmm,” the Grandmaster said after a moment.  “Maybe Lo-Lo really was right—that he’s the clever one and you’re the…” he gaze shifted to Loki.  “What is it that you called him, sweetheart?”

“Oaf.”

Hearing Loki say that to the Grandmaster, and knowing it had been said before, stung.  It was far from one of Thor’s favorite things for Loki to call him, but it was a familiar part of their shared lives—another piece of their past that was tainted by the Grandmaster.

He looked down at Loki, but Loki was looking across the room.  Thor followed his gaze to the clock.

Fuck.

It was already up to 1 hour and 3 minutes. 

“Ah, now he sees it,” the Grandmaster smiled—not at Thor, but at Loki.  “The real question is how much attention Sparkles was paying to the rules.”

“You didn’t tell me the rules,” Thor growled.

“Well, not _all_ the rules, but I may have let something slip.”

The Grandmaster raised his eyebrows and mouthed the words ‘oops.’  Thor furrowed his brow and started to run through everything he could remember the Grandmaster saying (while cursing himself for not paying closer attention earlier).  He was already failing.  Loki didn’t quite shift but moved his shoulder tiniest bit.

_It’s hands off tonight. Well, hands off for Sparkles._

Thor pulled his hand back just as the Grandmaster reached forward to swat Loki’s propped up knee.

“No cheating.”

“Sorry, Grandmaster.”

“Don’t let it happen again.” The Grandmaster rubbed Loki’s knee for a few moments and then turned back to Thor.  “Come on, Sparkles, you can’t spend the entire night at your brother’s side.”  He gestured impatiently for Thor to stand up.  Once he did, the Grandmaster immediately linked their arms and he continued, “Tonight’s game is not an excuse to be antisocial.”

Thor hazarded one last look back at Loki as the Grandmaster pulled him across the room.

“Don’t worry, Sparkles, our little Lo-lo won’t be alone for long.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, what do you thing? *ducks and hides*


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out, posting a fic with a game-like plot when you only have the basic premise and the 'end' of the game figured out is not very conducive to consistent updates. Sorry. The upshot is that if I had never posted the first chapter, I probably never would have bothered to flesh the rest out and kept this buried on my computer to the end of time, so less sorry? Thanks, as always, to the indomitable Loxxlay for being my cheerleader.
> 
> Anyway, hopefully this was worth the wait...or at least not _not_ worth the wait...

It started slowly.  Thor was grateful for that.  He stood at the Grandmaster’s side—nodding at the right times and feigning interest in the conversation.  A part of him knew he should be paying closer attention—listening for clues about the rules—but there was nothing game-like being discussed.  It was just the same mindless, self-indulgent prattle of party-goers fawning over a madman.  

He tried to focus, but his gaze kept drifting to Loki—watching the way the guests watched him and the way Loki’s muscles were so tense that he was nearly shaking.  Not in anticipation, but in fear.  And the more afraid Loki looked, the more Thor felt the anger in the pit of his stomach grow.

The guests moved closer, but nothing of substance happened.  None of them talked to Loki, but they seemed to be talking about him—admiring and occasionally touching.  When they did, Loki would flinch back as if their touches burned, but he never tried to move from the couch.  He seemed too afraid to move from where the Grandmaster had arranged him.

(A small sick part of Thor was grateful for that fear. Grateful that it would keep Loki safe until he was back to normal.)

Because normally, Loki would await the Grandmaster’s games with a stoic disinterest—or feigned interest if the Grandmaster was looking.  He wouldn’t relish in their touches, but he was never this skittish.  Thor had always known that it was a mask, but he had gotten so used to seeing it that he had almost forgotten that there was something lying underneath it all. 

(Thor tried to tell himself that this was just the drug—that Loki wasn’t really this afraid all the time. The drug was the reason his brother was so on edge.  It was the drug making Loki’s eyes flit nervously from one guest to another.)

Thor looked up at the timer.  The number had dropped, but not nearly enough to match the time since he had left Loki’s side. So to the extent he was doing something right, he was also doing something wrong in near equal measure.  And he still had no idea what the Norns-forsaken ‘rules’ were. 

He clenched his fist and bit back a growl.  Anger would solve nothing.  The Grandmaster would never reward them for a fit a rage.  And he certainly would not reward Thor for worrying over his brother, so he tore his eyes away from the couch and forced himself to focus on the insipid conversation of the group that surrounded him.

(This is what Loki would do, he reminded himself.  Loki would carry on as if nothing was wrong—as if he was enjoying himself.  That is what Thor needed to do now.)

The Grandmaster eventually left their group with the instruction that everyone ‘relax and mingle’ so Thor forced himself to do just that.  He drank—not too much, but enough—that he could laugh at other guests’ jokes and even respond to their flirting, even if his responses were still stilted.  He was trying.  That had to count for something.

* * *

Thor’s mingling eventually took him closer to Loki.  He tried to tell himself that it was unintentional—that it was the flow of the conversation that brought him there—but that was a lie.   Even though he couldn’t intercede, Thor felt compelled to be close in a misguided attempt at brotherly support.  He longed to catch Loki’s eye to convey that he was doing his best and for Loki to see that he was trying.

(The selfish voice inside of him whispered that he was only doing this in effort to assuage his own guilt—that he wanted Loki to absolve him of his failures while Loki bore the cost.) 

But Loki never looked back at him.  Instead, Loki’s eyes were screwed shut against tears that streaked down his cheeks as someone deep orange and generally humanoid moved over him.  Thor pictured himself storming over and pulling the creature off his brother—he could almost feel the satisfying crunch of bone as his fist connected its face—but he didn’t move.

Because there would be no crunch of bone.  No cleansing blood. 

The Grandmaster would set off the disk and he would drop to the ground powerless, leaving Loki all the more vulnerable.  He couldn’t play the game if unconscious and the Grandmaster would never end the game on his behalf.

So Thor turned back to the conversation.

He focused on it with such intensity that he didn’t even realize when the orange one had finished until one of the women in the group called him over.

“Leef, you’re certainly having a good night.”

“Can’t complain,” he said with a lewd smile as he finished adjusting his trousers.   It was still early enough in the night that the guests were keeping up the pretense that the party was not meant to be an orgy.

Thor ground his teeth and glanced over to Loki, who was alone on the couch but breathing heavily.  His stomach turned but he forced himself to take a drink and go back to the conversation.  He avoided looking at Leef directly and chose to look at a spot over the shoulder of the woman who had called him over.

“Rather lucky to be the first one to take the Grandmaster’s prized pet.”

Thor bristled at the disgusting note of admiration in her voice and had to stop himself from gripping his drink hard enough to shatter the glass.  He glared at the woman, but she was ignoring him—her focus entirely on that creature.

_It’s not about what they say, Thor—it’s about what they mean.  Ignore the words and think about the motivation._

Loki’s voice.  It was always Loki’s voice. Loki had first given him that advice when they were much older than boys on the edge of the activity in Asgard’s court.  He had echoed the advice more recently in terms of how to navigate the political machinations of the people of Sakaar.

(When Loki had repeated the advice, Thor wondered if he had seen the parallel.  He hadn’t bothered to ask.  Loki would not have wanted him to dredge up the past.  It was better to keep those memories untouched by Sakaar.)

So Thor focused on the woman’s body language and tone rather than the way she described his brother.  She was new—maybe not to Sakaar but at least to this circle—and seemed to think that this cretin had some esteem in the Grandmaster’s eyes and could be her way up the ladder.  Thor watched her briefly place a calculated hand on Leef’s chest and in lean in. 

“How do you manage that?”

“Played my cards right.”

Thor could not tell if it was an allusion to gambling or just some turn of phrase.  He didn’t much care which it was, but focusing on the minutiae was the only thing that kept him from acknowledging the way Leef was casually referring to Loki as the ‘best fuck he’d had in a while.’  It worked well enough, until Leef’s slapped his hand on Thor’s bicep. 

“Don’t need to tell you that, do I?”

The glass in Thor’s cracked but he didn’t even register the liquid of his drink dripping down his hand.  Thor jerked his shoulder with enough force to remove Leef’s hand from his arm and set him wobbling.

Leef growled something in response, but Thor did not hear him over the anger surging through him.  This bastard had forced himself on his brother and then had the gall to suggest that they were the same.  That Loki was just a thing to be used for their pleasure.  As if it pleased Thor to do to his brother what the Grandmaster had them do.

(Except he did.  Thor could pretend that he didn’t, but an orgasm did not lie.)

The shame had a dampening effect on his anger and sound started filtering back to him.  He heard that cretin being led away by that woman and laughing about how Thor was just jealous.  Conversation returned to normal, but Thor did not bother to reengage.  He looked over to Loki who was alone on the couch.  He still seemed agitated, the fact he was alone and unbothered helped Thor push back his rage. 

Thor hazarded a glance at the clock, which barely showed any change, but maybe Loki would get a brief reprieve that would give him a chance to figure this out without having to worry about his brother.

(Because Loki was the distraction—if Thor wasn’t so worried for his brother, he could act.  Yes, that voice sneered, blame your brother for your own failing.)

The illusion of a reprieve shattered with a flash of gold and swish of blue and red as the Grandmaster approached the couch.  Thor told himself that this wasn’t because of his reaction to Leef.  The Grandmaster had been across the room and could not have noticed the broken glass. 

 _Of course he could notice—he notices everything_. 

This time Loki’s voice sounded hoarse in his memory—like it had after the party four days ago.  It had been part of a lecture that Thor had rebuffed, arguing that he did not need Loki to treat him like a child and tell him how to behave.  Yet here he was—behaving in a way that was sure to irritate the Grandmaster, who was crouched down next to his brother with a predatory smile.

“Aren’t you just as pretty as a picture, mmm. If I could freeze this moment…” the Grandmaster trailed off and ran his hand down Loki’s chest.

Loki didn’t respond verbally or even open his eyes, but Thor could see that his breath hitched by the way his chest froze for a moment before starting to rise and fall more rapidly.  Thor watched as the Grandmaster moved with surprising care to sit down on the couch and shift Loki so his head rested on his lap.

Thor expected him to speak—the man seemed to chatter endlessly—but for once he remained silent.   Running his fingers through the hair at the crown of Loki’s head, he rested the other on Loki’s chest on until his breathing returned to a normal rate.

“There you go,” he murmured, patting Loki’s chest once before moving to wipe the tear tracks on his face with the edge of his sleeve.  When he finished he rested his hand on Loki’s neck—his thumb brushing over his pulse point.  “That’s better.”

Loki blinked his eyes open and the Grandmaster all but beamed at him

“Are you enjoying yourself, sweetheart?”

“No,” Loki said with surprising force.  Thor froze and the conversation around him stilled.  The Grandmaster’s thumb stopped brushing over Loki’s pulse point but his brother did not seem to register it.  He just continued, voice shaking slightly, “Not overly.”

The Grandmaster kept smiling but his hand shifted to cover Loki’s throat more fully.  Thor took a step towards the couch but stopped himself before taking a second.  He couldn’t interfere.  Interference was never allowed.  Instead, he held himself—trembling with a need to act, to fight back—and silently willed his brother respond as the Grandmaster wished.

“What was that, Lo-Lo?”

“No,” Loki repeated—this time after a moment’s hesitation.  The Grandmaster’s hand squeezed—not enough to cut off air, but the pressure seemed to be enough to trigger Loki’s self-preservation.  “I’m sorry—I didn’t—”

“All this negativity,” the Grandmaster cut him off with a tsking noise.  “I can’t say I like it.”

With a jerky movement, so unlike his normal grace, Loki twisted himself out from under the Grandmaster’s arm and pushed himself up to a sitting position.  Loki looked panicked, which Thor had expected, but there was a desperation and yearning for approval that he hadn’t expected to see.

“Grandmaster,” Loki pleaded.  “Please don’t be angry.  I’ll do better.  I promise.”

“Hush, hush. Don’t fret, dear.”  The Grandmaster manhandled Loki until he was straddling his lap.  He ran his fingers up and down Loki’s spine.  “This is—well, I wouldn’t say good—but it’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

Thor watched as one of his hands dipped lower to squeeze Loki’s ass before disappearing into the space between the two of them.  Thor couldn’t see what the Grandmaster was doing, but the low moan Loki let out was confirmation enough.

“It gives me a chance to stretch.”  Loki gasped and the Grandmaster smirked before continuing, “To figure out what you truly need.  Isn’t that right?  Hmm?”

Instead of answering with words, Loki leaned to kiss the Grandmaster.  Despite being the one to initiate the kiss, Loki relented—no, not relented, relished in it—as the Grandmaster took control.  Thor watched his brother close his eyes with what looked like relief as the Grandmaster moved to suck and bite his way down Loki's neck.

The conversation started up around Thor again—after all, Loki in the Grandmaster’s arms was nothing new. 

He kept his eyes fixed on Loki, who had been terrified moments before, but was relaxing into the Grandmaster touch.  It went beyond the physical response to arousal.  Thor could see the tension fading from how Loki held himself—could see that his brother was taking comfort in the way the Grandmaster’s hands possessively roamed his body—as if the Grandmaster hadn’t been the cause of the panic and pain in the first instance.

Thor turned and punched the wall. 

One of the guests yelped in surprise.  Loki tried to turn as well, but the Grandmaster’s hand his hair kept him from looking.

“Uh, uh,” the Grandmaster scolded before leading Loki into another kiss.  When he pulled back, Loki didn’t try to turn around again but just moaned and buried his face in the Grandmaster’s neck. 

“You know, I’ll always take care of you, Sweetheart,” The Grandmaster smiled and locked eyes with Thor over Loki’s shoulder.  “Even when your brother won’t.”

This time Thor turned and walked to the opposite side of the room.  He couldn’t trust himself to stay close.

* * *

Somehow time seemed to pass both too slowly and too quickly as Thor tried to figure what the Grandmaster wanted him to be doing.  He tried to be methodical—to test theories.  He tried to relax and stop trying, but that did not work either.  He tried to be like Loki—to read what the other guests wanted—to anticipate what the Grandmaster wanted him to do before he could do it.

With barely a suggestion from one of the other partygoers—a Xandaran that Loki had told him had recently moved into the Grandmaster’s favor—Thor dropped to his knees and did what Loki would do.  When the Xandaran finished, Thor did not bother getting up immediately and looked at the clock instead.

The number had increased.  Again.

His eyes found the Grandmaster next.  He gave Thor a bemused smile and beckoned the Xandaran over.  With a shuddering breath, Thor wiped his mouth and rose to his feet.

“Oh, if you think Sparkles is good, just wait until you experience his brother.”  The Grandmaster was talking to the Xandaran, but he kept his gaze fixed on Thor.  “My Lo is just divine.”

Thor took a couple steps and sunk onto a couch as the Grandmaster led the Xandaran to Loki.

No matter what he did—no matter how he tried to draw the attention onto himself—draw the pain onto himself, it was Loki who suffered.  Loki who burned.

There were was nothing that Thor could do.

Maybe that was it.  Maybe he was meant to do nothing.

He had thought this was about reversing their roles—about Thor being the one to plan and protect—to do for Loki what his brother always did for him.

It may have been framed as a lesson for Thor, but it was more than that.  It was never just Thor—the Grandmaster’s games always came back to his sick obsession with Loki.  If it was just about teaching Thor a lesson, the Grandmaster could have taken Loki out of commission by getting him high with any party drug—or even just separated them for the night—but instead, the Grandmaster had been specific. 

_You’re going to take a break from thinking tonight._

There was a lesson for both of them there there. 

A rule.

The Grandmaster did not want Loki to think, but he also never intended for Thor to think in Loki’s place.  The Grandmaster did not want Thor to think up a plan to end this game.  This was not about planning.  Nor was it about protection. 

It was about rules.

It did not matter what the rules were—only that they were followed—that was the point of the game.

The point was never for Thor to find a way to protect Loki. The Grandmaster would never allow him to protect his brother—just as he would never allow Loki to protect him.  That was why he had drugged Loki, so he could not act as a shield for Thor.

But no, that was too simple.  What was the point of the timer if that was all it was?  There had to be something more.

Thor tried to think, but the sounds of music and the guests around him were a distraction.  He needed quiet—he needed to think—to ignore the guests and the party around him.

Ignore the party.  Ignore it.

_Whatever I’m doing with him, you have to ignore it._

Loki’s voice. 

Loki’s way of teaching Thor how to endure it when the Grandmaster used them against each other.

Loki’s way of protecting Thor.  Protecting both of them.  And the Grandmaster had noticed.

_Sometimes I think Sparkles doesn’t even pay attention_

Thor fixed his gaze on Loki and counted silently in his head.  When he reached 60, he flicked his eyes up to the clock to find that it had decreased that same amount.  He returned his gaze to his brother.

This is what he wanted—this was the lesson.  There could be no avoiding or ignoring it.  No protecting each other.

The Grandmaster and his guests would do what they pleased to Loki and Thor could do nothing but watch.

* * *

“So you’ve finally figured it out.”

On instinct, Thor moved to turn and face the voice.

“Ah, ah, ah,” the Grandmaster scolded as he leaned in closer from behind the couch.  He was close enough that Thor could feel his breath on his ear.  “Unless you want to put more time on the clock.”

Thor clenched his fists and kept his eyes fixed on Loki.  He did not know how long it had been since he had finally figured it out.  Aside from checking one more time to confirm that he was correct, Thor had not wanted to do anything to add even a second more to the clock.

(Especially since the whole reason they were still playing this ‘game’ was because he had been too thick to realize what was happening.)

“I could see why you might,” the Grandmaster continued.  “Your brother is so gorgeous like this—as if he was made for it.  Mmm.  I could watch him all night.  Couldn’t you?”

He remained silent as the Grandmaster slid his arm over his shoulder and onto his chest.  Thor did his best not to flinch as the Grandmaster’s hand started tapping along to the beat of the music. 

“You know, this is part of the reason I wanted to play this particular game tonight.  You never seem to be paying attention—always looking elsewhere and…” he trailed off at the sound of Loki moaning.  The sound was high pitched and almost keening.  “I mean, just look at the way he arches his back like that—delicious.  Makes you want to just scoop him up and ravish him, doesn’t it?”

Thor did want to scoop Loki up—scoop him up and get him out of this room.  He yearned to take Loki off this planet and as far away as he could. 

“Yoohoo, Sparkles.”  The Grandmaster stopped taping his fingers and dug his nails into Thor’s chest.  “I asked you a question.  Did you have an answer?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

Bile rose up in his throat, but Thor swallowed it down. 

“I want to ravish him, Grandmaster.”

He couldn’t see it, but he could feel the smug look on the Grandmaster’s face.

“Well, don’t worry—little brother will be all yours again in just 38 minutes and 27 seconds.”  He patted Thor twice before removing his hand.  “Unless, of course, you change your mind and want the show to last a little longer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those who paid attention to Grandthorki Day on Tumblr will see that that excerpt did not appear in this chapter. It just tonally didn't fit with how this ended up being all Thor's perspective. So it will be the start of Chapter 3, which will be finished in...well...hopefully a lot less than 6 months...


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